Oliver Walston: A bitter harvest (or why farmers are furious)

"The trouble with you farmers," said my friend Guy, as he masticated in public, "is that you're always complaining". His ciabatta had the consistency of chewing gum but, as he pointed out, at least it was organic. Guy, like most Independent readers, is very concerned about what he eats. This year has not been easy for him.

First he had to come to terms with Food Miles and now, poor soul, he is tormented by the size of his carbon footprint. All of which explains why he was happy that the mozzarella in his sandwich came from Worcestershire. I decided not to tell Guy that today there is actually more mozzarella made in Britain than in Italy.

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The fact is that Guy is right. We farmers do have a deserved reputation for whingeing. But today, as every livestock farmer in Britain waits nervously to see if his business will go into meltdown, the anger against the government in general and Defra in particular is almost tangible.

The Surrey farmer whose herd has now been slaughtered summed up the feelings of every farmer when he said "It is nothing to do with us. It is something beyond our control." This was no whinge. This was no bleating moan. It was the agonised cry of an entire industry as it sits helpless while an uncaring government wrings its hands and looks desperately for excuses.

Likewise the Tewkesbury dairy farmer who was forced to sit by and watch in horror while his herd suffered agonies of thirst when their water supply was cut off during the recent floods. And as if that were not enough, his waterlogged fields meant that he had lost both his hay and silage crops which normally provide fodder during the winter months.

Although the livestock farmers are today clearly the most vulnerable, they are not alone. One cannot blame the south Yorkshire arable farmer for feeling suicidal as he surveys fields of peas which had been totally destroyed by the July monsoon. It is estimated that 40 per cent of the national crop has been lost, which means that for the British housewife to have a pea this autumn she will need to spend a penny or two more than she did last year.

It may also explain why in Waitrose car parks from Norwich to Exeter there is today a new and different sound. It is not the noise produced by the electric motor of a Toyota Prius. It is the earnest and anxious buzz of sotto voce dialogue. The subject is neither foot-and-mouth disease nor floods. It is the provenence of this week's carrier bag as sensitive shoppers worry that their tomatoes are Tunisian and their radishes are Romanian.

These worried women of Waitrose are not alone. Deep in the heart of Bristol, the Vatican City of the Soil Association, the princes of the organic church are infinitely more concerned. Once upon a time a vegetable was organic if it had received neither pesticide (excluding copper sulphate, of course) nor fertiliser (excluding rock phosphate, of course).

But today the organic theologians are mired in arcane disputes which would make St Thomas Aquinas dizzy. Can an organic carrot remain organic if it has been in an aeroplane? How many miles can a lettuce travel in a lorry before it ceases to be organic? Can a fish farm be organic?

Meanwhile British farmers are enjoying themselves hugely. Of course they love the idea of food miles since it encourages consumers to forswear Brazilian beef, New Zealand lamb and German sauerkraut. Instead all right-minded shoppers will buy Welsh lamb, Scottish beef and German sauerkraut. Always assuming, that is, that there are enough Welsh lambs and Scottish bullocks to go round.

But the sensible farmers - and contrary to what Guy feels, they do exist - are feeling just a teeny bit uneasy about food miles. It is all very well telling the customer to buy British, but very few farmers are prepared to do likewise. On their own farms they buy German tractors, French ploughs and Lithuanian fertilisers. British tractors, ploughs and fertilisers do exist, but they are often either more expensive or less efficient.

And then, of course, British farmers and their families have also discovered the joys of Ryanair and that little bar on the beach in Alicante. The days when bracing Skegness was the destination of choice are now just faded photographs in the scrapbook.

But all is not doom and gloom down on the farm - at least on the arable farms of East Anglia. In August last year a tonne of wheat was worth maybe £65. This month I sold feed wheat for £136 per tonne. Last year I lost money, this year I will make money. But, I remind myself, I will only get paid for the wheat once it is safely in the barn. Which is why the combine harvester will be working late tonight.

The writer farms in Cambridgeshire

owalston@thriplow-farms.co.uk